I Do, I Don't
by Xelbie
Summary: AU. Emma Swan and Killian Jones are just like every other person in the apocalypse, but for some reason, they seem to have lost more than others. When Killian is hired to take Emma to the Regals, a rebellion group, they may just find out something else along the way. In a broken world, they must rely on one another if they want to survive. "The Last of Us" au fic. Dark themes.


**[A/N]: **_So, this is the first chapter of a very experimental au fic I decided to write based off of the video game "The Last of Us". Now, if you haven't seen it, there will be slight spoilers in here if you wanna play the game, but I've changed a lot of stuff around. The story line will be similar, but not exactly the same, since that would be a bit boring to write, haha. Anyways, also warning you that this is going to be VERY dark. Lots of death and angst for later chapters, so keep that in mind... Anyway, this is experimental, so please enjoy and share your thoughts if you can!_

* * *

Chapter One

**Crooked**

* * *

_We're the Crooked Kind._

* * *

"I trust you."

"Good," Regina replied shortly to the blonde woman.

The very same woman turned towards Killian, her lips curling in clear distaste. "I don't trust him."

Killian put his good hand up to his chest, feigning offense. "That hurts, darling," his tone then dropped, becoming sarcastic. "Truly, it does."

Regina, head of the Regals, the rebellion group fighting against the Quarantines, simply rolled her eyes. He could practically see the irritation and impatience coming off of her in waves. Then again, she was bleeding out pretty badly, so that could have had something to do with the edge to her voice as well. "Miss Swan, just do as I say," the brunette held onto the counter beside her for support, clenching her teeth. "You wanted to help, did you not?"

From his peripheral vision, Killian could see the internal conflict Miss _Swan_ was going through. Guilt and doubt flashed through her seemingly once-bright eyes and his brow rose in slight curiosity as he wondered what the woman's decision would be. He rubbed his handless wrist, trying to soothe the sudden ache that had grown there. _Tink's going to be bloody furious_, he thought exasperatedly.

That morning's events were a bit out of the ordinary for him. Well, as out of the ordinary as things could get during a zombie apocalypse. His partner in crime, Rose Tinker, had sent him away to perform a simple task: get the guns they were supposed to smuggle into the quarantine zone. It was a straight forward retrieval job and he had somehow managed to screw it up by running into Regina Mills of all people.

Regina Mills was a strong woman, and the perfect type of person to raise people to start a rebellion against the guards of the zone. Regals and soldiers have always been in a constant fight, however so it was nothing new. Besides, they _all_ had one enemy, really.

It was called the Cordyceps, a strange brain disease caused by fungus. The Cordyceps can only be transmitted through bite, tearing the skin so that the fungus can go directly into the blood stream. This disease kills the brain in one to two days, leaving a fully operating shell to take over. The zombies, or runners as he liked to call them, were hostile to anything and anyone with life, basically.

And when the Cordyceps spread, that was it for mankind. Society broke and shattered into pieces, leaving what was left of the government, navy, army, air force, anything, to regroup and try to bring the community back to normal, but what others had in mind as "normal" was far from it. This was how quarantine zones were created. They were once places of hope, but now they were prisons. Nothing got out or in.

And this birthed the idea of the Regals, lead originally by Regina's mother, Cora until deceased. Then Regina took up the group, enforcing the idea of rebellion like her mother had tried to do. And that's how they ended up here,

Now, Regina had been shot, no doubt by one of the one of the zone's soldiers, and he had almost considered feeling bad for her. That is, until she started to blackmail him with his own belongings. Apparently, the Regals had taken the guns he and Tink were supposed to get, saying they took the weapons to go up against the soldiers.

* * *

"_We need them, Jones," Regina had started. "You can have them back once we get out of this damn quarantine zone."_

_Killian laughed humorlessly, "What? So you and your little knights and princesses can run around with them and waste ammunition? That's not how this works, love. I _own_ those guns; you don't. It's simple, really."_

"_Then how about a trade?" She hissed through the gaps in her teeth, trying to hold herself up. He could see the blonde beside Regina give the wounded woman a slightly concerned glance, but didn't move to help. _

"_I'm not trying to negotiate," he replied flatly, growing tired of the conversation. He just wanted his guns, dammit._

"_Just _wait_," the head of the Regals spoke desperately. "I can't take her back to the Regals' camp… but you can. You take her to a rendezvous point and you'll get your guns back and more."_

"_Regina!" The blonde hissed pointedly, but she was ignored._

"_Do we have a deal?" The brunette asked._

* * *

Killian rubbed his face and his tongue glided over the side of his lips as he picked at his stubble. This was a bad idea. A _very_ bad idea. Sure, they would get more guns, but was it worth it? He didn't like how Regina was being so secretive about the blonde's importance. What made her so valuable? He sighed and picked up his rifle from the dusty counter. "Well, we should be on our way, Swan. It's almost nightfall."

He watched as the woman sent Regina a dark glare before pushing passed him and started to walk out of the room. _Well, isn't she lovely_, he thought sarcastically, turning his gaze to the leader of the Regals, his eyebrows raised. She looked slightly annoyed, but went on to speak. "Some of my people will meet you on the East side of the zone in the old hotel. You'll get your payment then."

"It would be best if I do. For both our sakes. I'll meet up with Tink and then start heading out at first light. Are you going to be able to make it out of here?" He asked, eyeing her side and saw the dark red staining her shirt.

Her voice was hard, "Don't worry about me. You worry about her. She can be stubborn."

"I see that," Killian muttered. He brushed his thumb against his nose, staring at the blonde that was leaning against a wall in the next room over. Then, he suddenly asked the question that had been floating around his mind. "Why does she need protecting?"

Regina narrowed her eyes, "Does it matter?"

"I'd say it does, seeing as you've gone to such lengths just for a single person," his voice deepened and became darker. He was _not_ in the mood to play this game.

But neither was Regina. "You just think about how to get _her_ to the meeting spot without getting killed. You get paid whether you know or not, so why does motive matter to you all of a sudden, Jones? Turning over a new leaf after what the hunters did to you?"

That last comment really hit home for him, because he lost all patience with the woman. He growled and nearly made an advance on her, but stopped when he heard the sound of a blade being unsheathed from behind him. He froze, and spun slowly on his heels, only to see an angry glint in the eyes of Miss Swan. The tip of her dagger was point straight at him, locked on him and aimed straight for his chest as she held it with a great deal of confidence and experience.

"Let's go, tough guy," the blonde commanded, her tone strong and cautious. He looked from her, then back to Regina with a steady glare. The Regal met his gaze with an equally irritated stare, not breaking the contact.

Killian's lip twisted up slightly, "Tch," he threw his bag over his shoulder with his better functioning hand before beginning to walk away. "I'd advise that you watch yourself, Mills. You've already had one close call." All lightness had left his voice, leaving a ragged rumble to replace it.

He heard the woman laugh bitterly, "Concern doesn't suit you, Jones."

"That wasn't concern. That was me telling you not to get yourself killed. No you, no pay; it's simple. Plus, Tink would butcher my other hand if she knew I let you die _and_ didn't come back with our ammunition," Killian said gruffly while moving up to the blonde woman's side. She eyed him wearily and he noticed her take a few steps away from him. "Come on, lass. We've about an hour or so before curfew." He pushed open the door leading out of the small room, not looking back to see if his "cargo" had actually followed.

* * *

Emma was ready to choke him. _Jones,_ or whatever Regina had called him, had been nothing but a pain in her ass since the moment she saw him. First, she was practically dragged across half of the quarantine zone, and then she gets stuffed into a room and is forced to wait until "further instructions". Yeah, right. If it wasn't for the fact she had no idea where the Regals were located (Regina absolutely refused to tell her anything, much to her annoyance), she would have left that place in a heartbeat with or without a stupid baby sitter.

However, there was also a nagging thought in the back for the blonde's head, something that kept her tame and slightly calm in the chaotic situation. She supposed it partially had something to do with the fact that Regina was her mother's cousin. Well, second cousin. Removed. But still, they were _technically_ family.

Before the whole world went to shit, an eighteen year-old Emma was alone in Washington for college, miles and miles away from Boston, from her family, she remembered getting a call from her mother. Apparently things had gotten worse in the East and a lot quicker, too. Emma lost contact with her parents within the following days, which was also when her baby had decided to come. And that was also the time when Neal decided to leave her to save his own skin, leaving her alone with _her_ newborn son. (By blood, Henry was Neal's child, but he would _never be_ his son).

However, now she was alone again. After ten years of Henry's company, having him by her side, even when the world was nothing but a wasteland, she was fine as long as she had him. They managed, they got by, and they had done it all together... But now she would always regret that unspoken decision that they would do things _together, together, together_, when it was much easier to get things done independently, to be alone.

Maybe then they wouldn't have run into that bastard soldier. Maybe then they would've been able to get away, or at least _he_ would have been able to leave her and just _save himself_. Then, she wouldn't have had to watch the bullet leave the gun before send him flying to the ground. And the red. And the tears. Even the blind rage and bloodlust that had filled her at that moment wasn't enough to wash away the instant grief and pain she felt. It was enough to end the life of the man that ended _his_, but nothing beyond that. Yet, she wished she would have done something else, _anything_, for maybe then the hollow pit in her gut wouldn't feel as empty as it always did now.

"So, what makes you so important, princess?" The query broke through her thoughts. From the British accent, to the overall unfamiliarity of the voice, Emma instantly became aware and slightly alarmed. "Easy, lass, it's just me," Jones said from ahead of her. His bright gaze lingered on her as his brow quirked upwards questioningly.

Right. And now she was with _him._

Regina was fine to travel with, even though she didn't exactly make the best traveling buddy when it came to good company (then again, Emma probably figured she was no better). She would take the Regals leader's company over the foreign, one-handed guy that she barely knew, any day. Hell, she didn't even know his full name. So, instead of responding, she simply sent a weary glance towards him, but strolled passed him, being sure to mind the knocked over garbage can as she did. From behind her she could hear Jones mutter something that sounded a lot like, "Bloody women and their bloody stubborn attitudes…"

For a moment, Emma almost felt bad for ignoring the man. Almost. But it wasn't like she was trying to be an asshole. Well, - maybe a just a bit -, but it was understandable. She was just handed over to some random smuggler, so she had a good reason to be a bit cautious. How was she supposed to know if she could trust this guy? All she could hope for was that he _really_ wanted these guns, or else she could end up dead in a ditch somewhere. And that wouldn't help anybody.

Also, there was really no purpose in getting to know one another since they would be at the Regals rendezvous point soon (which just so happened to be an old hotel on the other side of the zone). Then she would never have to see the guy ever again. She would go on, go back with the Regals, and help save humanity… So, if she could manage to survive a bit with a stranger, then she could face just about anything.

But… something just didn't seem right about him.

There was a dangerous vibe to him underneath all of his carefree attitude he had plastered on. Underneath the lightness of his eyes, she could see something dark and precarious. Somehow, he managed to make walking look like a chore from the way he was brooding, his steps heavy, but not without purpose. And of course, she couldn't stop her eyes from drifting to his missing limb, taking peeks at what remained occasionally whenever he swung his arm back. She could see the slightly lifted skin and scars wrap around his wrist, leading up to the point to where there just wasn't any flesh left marred, ending the stump.

Overall, he just looked… tired.

Though, now "tired" was a common appearance trait amongst those of the living.

Emma didn't realize she had been staring until she was once again snapped out of her haze of thought, yet again. She noticed her escort had stopped to look over at her. Emma became defensive immediately. "What?"

He sent her a grin, causing his eyes to crinkle a bit, making him look years younger. She had to admit, he looked… nice. Well, nicer than most, at least. "Ah, so the Regal speaks!" He anounced dramatically. "I was beginning to lose hope, love."

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the man. She huffed, "First of all, quit calling me 'love' and 'regal'; I'm not one of Regina's rebels. Second, why did we stop?" An impatient hand found its way to her hip while she stared at her guide expectantly.

The man sat down and leaned against a brick building which annoyed her even further. They were supposed to keep moving and taking an unneeded rest was _not_ moving. In her peripheral vision she could see the orange setting sun slipping behind the large, beat-up buildings of the city. It was getting dark, and she still had no idea where she was headed or how close they were to whatever destination there was. It was either she needed answers, or she needed to leave the guy behind. Though, a mental voice reminded her that he knew his way around the town way better than she did. It would be stupid to walk away now.

"Well, _darling_," her guide said, emphasizing the pet name to tease her. She could just tell by the way he was grinning that he was enjoying the fact that he was succeeding in his mission to mess with her. "Let's start with the basics, then maybe we can work our way up the question ladder. Sound fair?"

Emma groaned and shook her head, "This is unbelievable." Her hand went up and she wiped her face, frustrated. "Listen, here, buddy, we don't have time for this. Curfew is in less than twenty minutes and if we don't get somewhere by then, we will be -."

He raised his gaze to scowl at her slightly, and although he wasn't completely glaring at her, his piercing stare was heated enough to make her feel extremely uneasy. _It's his eyes_, she decided, taking note on how blue his irises were because _shit_ he seemed terrifying. Now, she could see the professionalism that he had with Regina begun to return. She watched as his jaw clenched, "Then we'll _make time_. I'll go first. Killian Jones, or otherwise known as 'Hook'."

"'_Hook_'?" Emma snorted. "As in _Captain Hook_? The Disney character?"

"No, love, just Hook," Killian – or Hook – whatever, said while pulling out something from his side and attaching it to his stump with a click.

It was a hook.

And actual freakin' hook.

She felt her jaw drop open slightly, "What the hell? What're you doing carrying around a hook?" Her eyes never left the silver tip of the curved metal.

"It's a handy weapon," he shrugged. Emma deadpanned at the pun.

"And what's wrong with a normal dagger or knife?" Her voice was flat.

"I've had this longer," was all he said and Emma sighed loudly.

Running a hand through her long locks, she contemplated on what she could do now. The guy was obviously a weirdo and he must have more to his hook-for-a-hand story that he wasn't telling her, which only reinforced the idea that he couldn't be trusted. But really, it's not like she had a choice to back out now. Even if she did abandon Jones then and there, she would have to find some place to hole up for that night, which would not be easy considering she barely knew her way around the town. "All right, if I tell you my name, can we please get out of here?"

"You have my word," he stood and gave her a small, mock bow.

Emma muttered, "I wonder how much that counts for…" But he appeared oblivious to this comment, so she went on. "I'm Emma. Emma Swan."

He grinned and pushed a piece of her bangs out off her shoulder with his hook. She had to force her body to stay still as it was ready to jump back at his lazy advance. Emma kept reminding herself, _he's not going to do anything_. And she could hear a voice arguing with her, _how do you know_? He spoke with a wink, "Then it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Swan." She watched as he moved to the side of the building he had been leaned against and walked around the corner of it. Emma stared after him until he literally beckoned her to follow. Her hand went to her forearm and she rubbed the area subconsciously while trudging after the man.

Emma rounded the corner to find Hook pushing open a door, driving his shoulder into it before it finally popped open. He waved inside. "Welcome to my humble abode," he greeted sarcastically.

She took a step into the building and turned on her heel to face him. "Wait, so we were already here the whole time and you kept me standing outside just so we could talk?"

"Correct."

"You're a jackass," Emma mumbled as he chuckled and guided her to his apartment, since he apparently shared the whole building with another woman, his partner, named Tink.

They both stepped into the musty smelling room and took their gear off. Emma took in the appearance of the place while Hook made himself comfortable on his couch. The apartment was a decent size, she noticed, and the windows were actually sealed, not broken. There were pieces of random papers on the ground, the wallpaper was peeling, and there were stains on the carpet, but other than that, the place wasn't half bad. "Well, Tink should be back soon, so we should rest while we can," Jones suggested while already laying his head against the couch cushion.

In mere minutes, Emma heard the heavy breaths coming from the man and she knew he was out. She thought it was amazing and – well, and stupid – how fast he was able to fall asleep, especially with a stranger like her just lingering around. What if she just slit his throat and took all his stuff? _He wouldn't even know_, she mused. It was just different to see someone so trusting in this kind of world. It was a bit refreshing, but still idiotic at the same time.

Shaking her head, Emma moved to the window and sat on the tiny ledge that jut out of the wall. It had started to rain now and the water droplets on the glass were reflected even more with the lights of the quarantine zone shining through them. The sound of rain hitting the roof of the building could be heard and she tilted her head back, letting it make contact with the wall. She let her eyes drift shut and listened to the light drops of rain, knowing full well that she wouldn't be able to sleep that night.

* * *

Clouds rolled overhead and the thunder shook the dirty windows of the creaky apartment. Hook opened his eyes, rubbing the blearily as he sat up and stretched. However, his lax mood suddenly changed when he saw both Emma and Tink holding knives to each other's throats, glaring into one other's eyes. When Tink noticed he was awake, her voice rang out, stiff and stable, "Hook, why is there an infected woman sitting in your apartment?"


End file.
